Dancing
by Favo de Mel
Summary: By Merlin, I wasn't supposed to fall in love today...


Dancing

I wasn't supposed to fall in love; by Merlin, I didn't want to. That is way too complicated, and I like my life simple. Who wants to put themselves on the line for someone that you know can hurt you so easily? Besides, if love is about giving, and love is only certain to leave, what guarantees you that there's going to be anything of you left after it happens? To not be your own person, to be so caught up in someone else that self ceases to exist.

Right. Exactly what I always pictured growing up.

I didn't want that for me, and I certainly never wanted it to be with _her_.

My god, what was I _thinking?! She's not even all that good-looking, though her eyes are the most unusual shade of brown I've ever seen, and she's got one hell of a bad temper. Sure, she's actually pretty smart, and she's not a bimbo like most of the other girls I know, but that doesn't mean I __like losing my sense of rationality._

I mean, think about it! The feeling is just too damn irrational and downright insensible for our good; it just doesn't make sense, and I hate things that do not make sense to me.

Besides, she's my sworn enemy's girlfriend-not to mention a mudblood-which only adds up to the list of 'Reasons not to Fall in Love with Her'-or anyone, for that matter. 

She absolutely _loathes me, and that hurts…_

I'm no masochist.

I don't _like _getting hurt, just as I don't like irrational things; 'Love' fills in both categories, and so I always thought I would never have that happen to me. It was preposterous! Like I said, love's too complicated, and yet it really bugs me how stupidly EASY it was to fall in love. It makes me want to hit something. 

So here I was, minding my own business, not bothering anyone by trying to ignore my freezing toes as I walked back from serving detention with that stupid, half-giant Hagrid, and there she comes rushing by in all her usual self, (meaning loud and screechy), hair flying loose and cheeks bright red from running all the way down from the Gryffindor's common room; she's not wearing a jumper and her shoe-laces are untied, and it makes me wonder how long it took her to get dressed, and just how much care she put into it (she's wearing her shirt inside out).

What a picture.

If it comes down to it, she looked really pathetic, but there was something about her that made me want to stop and watch; maybe it was because noone's usually ever up before noon during holidays, and it was _frigging _seven thirty.

Well, how _dumb _could she get?! It was _snowing_ for goodness' sake! If I could have I'd still have been in bed where it's _warm and I didn't have to rub my hands to keep them from going numb. Besides, she could have gotten seriously ill._

She'd been hunched over for a few minutes, trying to catch her breath as snowflakes skated aimlessly downward, catching themselves in her hair, which now looked messy and tangled and white; as she straightened up, though, it was my turn to be breathless.

Reason? She was smiling.

A smile itself is usually nothing to get excited about, but on her it was a big deal. 

She was always so serious, only smiling when that blasted Potter was around-she seemed instead to only fight with the stupid Weasel-and always scowling when it came to me…

Once, when we were in second year, I told her that it was a blessing she never smiled much-"Keeps us from seeing your enormous castor teeth!"-and that it made her look even uglier than usual (that wasn't true but I wasn't about to tell her that).

I sported a black eye for days after that comment-she has a tremendous punch, she has-and I never touched the subject again.

Anyway, she was smiling, and I privately thought she looked beautiful, regardless of what I always said. 

Maybe that should have been my first hint that I wouldn't be spared by Love.

I don't think she even saw me approaching, because if she had, I'd probably have been cursed or something; she was lost in her own world, head thrown back and arms spread out and raised to the sky as she swayed in slow circles, dancing gently to silence.

I was flabbergasted.

I don't know why, but there was something so… Mystical about her figure in the snow, and I couldn't tear my eyes away from her; I suddenly wanted to run over and kiss her senseless, let her see just how much she meant to me, and then-

That was it.

That… That CHEAT!!! How dare she sneak in on me like that?! I wasn't _supposed _to fall in love, and it makes me so angry that I let down my defenses like that!

She thinks she can just waltz in and start dancing and smiling and just being there all, _Hermione-like! My brain stopped working! It shouldn't __do that. What am I supposed to do now?_

She's still there; dancing. Looking adorable in her own little way…

And suddenly, her eyes open and meet mine across the street, and my heart feels like it's being torn in two different directions, the way I never thought I would feel.

Because Draco Malfoy hates Love.

She looks surprised, eyes filled with wonder.

We stand there for a moment, just staring at each other-she's actually glaring at me-and just as she opens her mouth, I turn around and break into a run.

*The End*

A/N: I adapted this story to a Harry Potter situation too.  It was originally written as an English assignment for college, and I changed it a bit… In my opinion, it's even angsty-_erthis way. Poor Draco…_


End file.
